


Inevitable

by howl-to-the-wind (greenleaf)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: All the Fluffiness in the World, Cotton Candy Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Kinda Fic-Not!Fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1248910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenleaf/pseuds/howl-to-the-wind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t just a kiss. It’s the inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote two versions for this, one for Arrow’s Olicity and one for Teen Wolf’s [Sterek](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1248907). It's basically the same, save for a few changes here and there for each couple. They totally fit the theme of the story I wanted and I am currently shipping them so hard it hurts, especially given the recent episode for each series.
> 
> Totally not beta-ed. Please tell me if my tenses are off. I don’t always write in present tense so it might get wonky at some places.
> 
> Kudoses and comments are always appreciated. Enjoy.

They kiss.

That is all.

There are no candle-lit dinners or dozens of roses, because it’s too ‘Oliver Queen’ and not Oliver and Felicity really isn’t into that kind of romance anyway. There are definitely no wine glasses, because Felicity has a low alcohol tolerance and Oliver doesn’t care for getting drunk, not when emergencies tend to pop up when they least expect them. And there are certainly no twittering birds, or lilting background music, or overwhelming fireworks, or a romantic rainfall. There are no roaring crowds, or applause, just Diggle standing at the side, averting his eyes but smirking knowingly before he makes his exit.

It is just a kiss, just a long press of lips, of Oliver’s calloused and careful hand cradling Felicity’s face while his other hand places her glasses safely on the table, of Felicity’s long and gentle fingers tangled in Oliver’s hair and one hand clutching his bare and sweaty shoulder. It’s of Oliver’s strong body fitting against Felicity’s soft curves in a not-quite-perfect slotting together that is still perfect simply because it is with each other and no one else.

If this story is meant to be poetic or dramatic, I will go on about feelings, racing heartbeats, or the rush of warmth emanating from each other’s bodies. I will tell you all about the _‘finally’_ and _‘want this’_ and _‘want you’_ and _‘so much’_ and the long, angst-filled tale about Oliver’s pain and Felicity’s insecurity. Of the months of uncertainty and the way they dance back and forth, never moving away but never moving completely forward. I will tell you in great detail about how they desire – oh, how they desire so much – and how they wonder, and how, when they want it so much that it hurt, it finally, finally happens, and the earth seems to shift and things finally make sense.

If this story is supposed to convey tension and passion, I will probably tell you all about the long and heated glances, the gentle touches of comfort, acceptance, and care, the occasional pull and push of tempers that masks the want and need and deep concern. I will tell you about the words that are misunderstood and the more important ones left unsaid, of the lingering glances unseen and the subtle signs unnoticed, of the numerous twists and turns and choices that led them away and then finally towards one another. I will tell you about Felicity’s sometimes inappropriate Freudian slips, or of Oliver’s constant denial of the truth, or the constant back-and-forth that seem to have no end. I will tell you about Diggle’s need to referee and his constant exasperation over what he already knows.

If this is an Explicit-rated story (because we all love that), it will be a first kiss that happens just before sex. I will write about how the kiss goes deeper, firmer, more wanting, more heated. I will write about multiple love bites, of clothes torn, hands that roamed, and hips that rolled and twisted just right. I will write about breathy moans and whispered promises, of shouts of ‘more’ and screams of ‘yes’. I will tell you about how amazing it is, how new, how good, or probably even how horrible. I will write about Oliver’s gentle nature and the uncertainty that still lingered and of Felicity’s constant reassurance and tender love.

But this isn’t meant to be any of those, not at all. I’m not here to talk about the long story that led to that kiss, of the build-up of emotions and affection. I’m not here to tell you about the part that comes after, about the happily ever after, or maybe even the not-so-happily ever after that follows. I’m just here to tell you that they kiss.

They kiss.

And it’s easy, like something natural, like a weight off of Oliver’s shoulders after the many missteps and wrong choices, like a sense of home and security that Felicity has always been longing for.

Their first kiss happens just after one of their more dangerous missions, after Felicity is once again needed as bait and Oliver almost gets stabbed, when adrenaline is still pumping through their veins and their senses are hyperaware, when they feel high, like they can take on the world, like they can do anything, like nothing else matters except this second and this moment to make sure of their reality, to make sure of each other.

I cannot tell you why it is obvious, why it is the one time that feels most right after every other incident that has happened in their lives. I cannot tell you that it is because seeing Felicity willing to put herself in front of danger and seeing Oliver trying to defend a city that still tries to beat him down makes them realize the need to stop denying, to stop running away from a home that’s already there and waiting for them.

I cannot tell you all that because I don’t know.

This is just a story about a kiss, a kiss at their headquarters surrounded by the lights of the computer screens.

As in most stories, I am probably supposed to end it now by telling you about the much-coveted ‘I love you’ that comes after, of how it’s the kiss that changes everything, or the kiss that starts something. But I can’t, because this is not that kind of kiss, not when everything has long since started and has been slowly changing in best and most unpredictable of ways.

This is a story about a kiss.

But it isn’t just a kiss.

It’s just…

…the inevitable.


End file.
